


Still Waters

by Grundy



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Finrod is underestimated a lot, Gen, Thingol finding out about the Kinslaying, son of Eärwen indeed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 08:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13632480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grundy/pseuds/Grundy
Summary: A snippet of Finrod dealing with Thingol immediately after Thingol learns of the Kinslaying at Alqualondë. (He's not as sweet and harmless as people seem to think.)





	Still Waters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oshun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshun/gifts).



> Originally [written on Tumblr](http://grundyscribbling.tumblr.com/post/169248001193/finrod) in response to a prompt from [Oshun](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshun/pseuds/Oshun):“Finrod actually is not a soft-spoken modest Elf. Why should he be? He’s a self-aware kind of guy.”
> 
> It took me a while to realize I hadn't posted it here! (Made a few minor edits - I tend to re-use the same word too many times.) May yet be absorbed into something larger, as I intend to write the clash between Thingol and the children of Arafinwë more fully.

The oldest son of Arafinwë Ingoldo knew perfectly well what others thought of him – particularly his Fëanorion cousins. If nothing else, growing up with Tyelko and Moryo around means he’s had a regular dose of hearing other people’s less than flattering opinions about him.

Shame they’re not here for this. Although, under the circumstances, that’s probably unkind… but he’s as capable of momentary lapses in kindness as any other elf.

He met his great-uncle’s eyes easily, with no trace of hesitation, no trepidation.

“You are free to hand down whatever decrees you wish in your own kingdom, Aran Elu Thingol,” he said.

His words were a lazy drawl, a languid land breeze – and deliberately so.

“But I will choose what name I answer to, and _Findaráto_ is in point of fact _not_ in the tongue of the Noldor. It is in my mother-tongue – the tongue of Alqualondë. I do not believe _you_ are in any position to tell me of anger at the slaying of my own kin, not when I was there to see it.”

He stopped just short of adding that if Olwë and his people were truly so important to Elwë, he had been strangely slow to try to find his way to joining them.

“You speak boldly for a supplicant, son of Eärwen!” Thingol thundered.

“I speak as a prince,” Findaráto retorted, his voice still calm. “As a grandson of kings, and the head of my house in Beleriand. And as one who will not surrender the name my parents gave me because I saw fit to pursue my grandfather’s killer to Beleriand despite the actions of my father’s kin.”

_If you thought me less than that, O King, you would hardly be the first. And if it stings that I will use your underestimation of me, perhaps you won’t make that mistake again._

Only a fool would think the sea was not dangerous merely because it was calm.


End file.
